Zoe walked slowly through the empty house, running her hands across bare and newly repainted walls, remembering when the house was brand new, when she was young, when the world seemed so simple and ordinary.
With the furniture broken up and gone there was less of him, but he was still here: nothing would dislodge him entirely. He had seeped into the walls, the floorboards, the ceilings, a rotten presence that gnawed at her from periphery of her vision. Perhaps in his weakened state he would leave the new owner — a stranger — alone, but that was no longer her problem.
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